The Violet Hour
by Warmongerfemme
Summary: At the violet hour, when bodies lie down for rest, and somewhere distant rain echoes, they find themselves at odds but strangely comfortable. Sleep is the only time he doesn't have to be alone. Sleep is something she rarely allows herself. He is lax and she is tense. When the violet hour comes, will they lie together in the approaching darkness? Starkk/OC
1. Chapter 1

Starrk woke again to the sound of a fight somewhere near his room. Lilynette had given up on waking him long ago and had given herself back to rest. He knew at least one of the combatants, of that he was sure, and if he cared to do so, he could probably guess the other. But he really didn't care who it was, or why they were fighting. He just wished they would take it elsewhere so he could sleep in comfort.

This was the sixth night in the past two weeks that he'd been disturbed by the fighting taking place in the hall to Aizen's quarters. Often, after failing to wake Starrk, Lilynette would go to observe and then make sure he knew every detail when he did wake. He was not surprised to hear that it had been Nnoitra and one of the newest arrancar attacking each other. Nnoitra was notoriously chauvinistic, so his picking a fight with the woman was nothing out of the ordinary. The arrancar, Marita Amparo, was an irritable and suspicious woman. Too wary to relax, she rarely slept, something that bothered Starrk greatly. Her irritability made sense to him. He'd be irritable too if he got as little sleep as she did.

Marita was almost always on the defensive and she had never come out unscathed from their battles. Her power held nothing in comparison to an Espada, and Nnoitra was sure to reiterate that fact when he'd beaten her to the ground. She'd fought, and had usually been first to draw her weapon, but it was always Nnoitra who goaded her into doing so. He was a sleazy man, and for anyone who cared, it was wise to be suspicious of him. Marita was just doubly so.

Not long after he woke, the sounds of the battle subsided and he could hear Nnoitra boasting to himself—and the hall—as he left, his footsteps receding. Content with the silence, Starrk readjusted himself on his self-made bed. His body felt heavy and hummed to himself as he found the position he'd been searching for, sinking into the pile of overly sized pillows.

Sleep however, did not come. Something bothered him, nagging at his mind that some little thing was off. Like the dripping of a faucet, the feeling would tear him from his rest before he could succumb to the comfort of his dreams. After some time of staring blankly at the smooth white ceiling, the answer occurred to him. He had not yet heard the sounds of the young arrancar dragging herself off to be healed.

Had Nnoitra finally killed the woman? Simply knocked her unconscious? Starrk did not care, and had it not been for sleep evading him, he would never have wandered into the hall to see.

The battle scene, sure to be cleaned up come morning, started not far from his door. There were multiple damages done to the wall and floor, and most areas sported splashes of blood. Further away, the damages lessened but the amount of blood increased, and in a slowly increasing pool of blood lay Marita Amparo. He had actually yet to see her, having slept through her recreation and never went out of his way to meet her. He had no need for any Fracción and he much preferred sleep to social interaction anyway. What he knew of her came from the complaints and comments he heard made by the other espada. She was a slim woman; delicate looking at first glance, but well muscled once one looked closer. Her dark blond hair was heavily asymmetrical, cropped close to the left side of her head while the hair on her right lay against her collar bone. Each drop in length was squared off and choppy while her bangs, while just as asymmetrical, lengthened smoothly. The remnants of her mask followed the curve of her cheekbones coming to sharp, curled points before the bridge of her nose. They extended outwards to completely cover her ears and run down the back of her jaw. Her hollow hole sat in the center of her throat and, for a second, he wondered if it impeded her ability to talk before he realized that he'd never heard of a hollow hole that did anything but exist. His certainly didn't stop him from doing anything.

It was obvious that most of the blood in the area was hers as she was covered in rather unpleasant looking gashes, and the wall behind her head was darkened by the blood soaking through her hair. Starrk was certain it was the wound that had ended their battle. Stepping over the rubble, the Prima Espada bent down, unsure if the woman was dead or merely unconscious. Resting on the balls of his feet, Starrk could see the slow and somewhat labored rise and fall of her chest. He watched her breathe, her face content despite the pain he was sure she had to be in, and his own breathing slowed, reminding him that he'd been kept from sleep because of the blond woman. With a shake of his head, he cleared his blurring vision only to catch sight of the shine of a weapon—two to be exact. Clutched in her hands were two short knives, with the guards and hilts to mark them as her Zanpakutō. They looked rather harmless compared to most of the Zanpakutō he'd seen, as he doubted that they could even reach someone's heart. After prying them from her hands and he slid them into the holders strapped to her upper arms.

He was unsure why the thought of allowing her to lay in the hallway bothered him, but it did. Part of him wondered if it was because she was alone. He'd never heard of her befriending any of the other arrancar and she was not Fracción to any of the Espada. Being alone and wounded was nothing pleasant, and he knew that leaving her there would just allow his mind to continue nagging him awake. Reluctantly, and with a heavy sigh, he scooped her into his arms to carry her to his room. "At least I'll get sleep this way."

Carefully he removed her blood soaked uniform, peeling the armless jacket from her body and setting it aside. One particularly large gash ran from the center of her chest to the slight dip of her waist, but it wasn't deep. The deepest cut in from her other side and angled toward her hip, cutting through the edge of her hakama. He counted the gashes on her torso and arms, taking note of the ones that needed to be wrapped before moving to remove her hakama. Her legs had far less wounds and only one he felt needed to be wrapped. Of course he was no doctor, but he had some common sense, and besides, she should be grateful that he'd spent time dressing her wounds when he could have been sleeping.

After wiping her skin clean of blood and wrapping some of her wounds, he dressed her in one of his own jackets. He was glad it covered her, not because he was bothered by her nudity, but so that when she woke she would be less angry with him. Less likely to wake him up.

Starrk climbed back onto his pile of pillows, watchful not to wake Lilynette or jostle the wounded arrancar he laid on the pile as well. Finally he could sleep. After a few minutes of fidgeting, he found a comfortable position, with his arm draped over his eyes. The scent of blood was still in the air and it stung his nose, but another new scent was closer. It was different from those he was used to. He knew his own scent, mild and musky. He was always comforted by Lilynette's brighter scent, unless she was waking him. Marita however, had a strangely light scent. He had expected her to smell sharper, more like one of Harribel's Fracción than what she did. Her scent reminded him of something not from Hueco Mundo. Some kind of flower, he decided: perhaps of rain as well. It soothed him and helped lull him back to the sleep her fight had woken him from. Amongst the warmth of their bodies, Starrk found himself claimed by sleep much faster than normal, his body turned towards that of his temporary bedmate.


	2. Chapter 2

Marita woke to a fiery aching throughout her body. Her head throbbed and trying to open her eyes and sit up only brought a cry of pain and a return to the plush of the bed beneath her. This was not something new for her. Though this had been the first time she'd not made it to her quarters and requested a healer. It explained the severity of her pain and why she felt out of place.

As her senses cleared she realized just how out of place she was. She kept her room in a precise order, took note of every detail so that nothing could surprise her. One thing she was entirely sure of was that her room did not have any kind of plush bed. It was relatively hard, with a thin mat and throw for comfort. No other rooms she'd been in matched what she could feel. The bed was soft, but lumpy, and as she felt about, she realized that it was not a bed at all. She lay on pillows; an excessive amount of pillows at that. The room had to be large, at least marginally larger than hers, as she realized it was much less stuffy than her own.

Then came the distinct marker of two spiritual energies beside her own. They were incredibly strong, but odd in the fact that they seemed to mesh in a way she had never encountered. Trying to keep the separated made her head throb again and it dizzied her.

Hand clasped over her mouth, Marita bolted up off the cushions, her stomach turning and threatening to push its contents back up through her throat. Gagging, she glanced around to spot what she hoped to be the bathroom, and rushed towards it stumbling the whole way. Thankfully, her assumption had been correct and she did not have to humiliate herself by dirtying another arrancar's room. Tears slid down her cheeks as she panted, down on her knees and in intense pain. Forcing her body to move that quickly had not been a good idea. Slowly, she pushed herself up to clean her face at the sink and wash the taste of sickness from her mouth. Beneath it she tasted blood and upon looking in the mirror she realized that her teeth were stained with it. Quick as she could, she scrubbed the blood away, trying to rid herself of the taste.

As she wiped at her mouth, she realized her arms were clothed. This was not her jacket. This jacket was all she was wearing. Distressed, she pulled the unfamiliar clothing from her body to find that the opposite of what she expected. Her wounds had been dressed and she found no sign of abuse that didn't come from a blow she remembered Nnoitra dealing her. Marita lifted the jacket before her eyes and inspected it, trying to figure out who it belonged to. It was long, that much was obvious, and much bigger than she was, but nothing about it gave her any clue as to who its owner was. Without any other choice in clothing, she slipped back into the jacket and made sure to tie it as tightly as she could without putting pressure on the wounds at her waist. Her lightheadedness had mainly subsided and she felt that now would be a good time to try and see just whose room she was in.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Marita's attention was quickly drawn to the pile of green pillows and two bodies strewn across it. Her light brown eyes widened in fear and she swallowed hard. The Prima Espada. There was no more powerful arrancar in Aizen's army, and the Prima Espada, especially the male of the pair was someone she did not trust.

He made her uneasy. More than any other, Coyote Starrk was difficult to read. His motives were seemingly nonexistent and his powers were relatively unknown. Marita preferred the more violent, open members of the Espada simply because she could better predict their reactions and tailor her own to match.

Instinct urged her to flee and when the young female draped over the pillows began stirring, she gave in, bolting out the door.

Lilynette shook her head, yawning and wiping the sleep from her eyes. She swore she'd seen someone else in the room, but there was no one there now, only she and Starrk. The green haired girl decided she'd ask Starrk about it once she had managed to wake him.

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Big thanks to Yukira-Kuchiki and two anonymous guests for such quick (and pleasant) reviews! I hope you guys are enjoying so far, and hopefully, by the end of the week I'll have another chapter or two up. My finals are coming up, so I apologies in advance if I get dragged away for any certain amount of time.


	3. Chapter 3

Starrk woke to his face being pushed into the pillows beneath it, a heavy weight balanced on his head and shoulders. Short for air he shoved up off the pile, dislodging Lilynette who had apparently been sitting on him. She yelped as she hit the floor, but he couldn't really be bothered to argue with her while he caught his breath.

The green haired Espada's words went in one ear and out the other as he stared at the bloody clothes she waved about. Lilynette was yelling about him taking so long to get up, nothing unusual, but also about Marita's clothes. It wasn't until the light, earthy scent made it to him that he remembered who they belonged to. He waved her off, flopping back down to the bed face first, "Mm, they're nobody's. 'm going back to sleep."

"No you're not! Get up, get up!" She jumped on him, stomping on his back as heavily as she could and he groaned in pain. Before he could try to placate her, she sat on him, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and pulling. "Who's clothes are these? They're obviously a girl's! Were you fucking somebody while I slept? You're such a pervert, Starrk! You're so gross! And why are they so bloody?"

Starrk reached back to grab her wrists before she managed to pull his hair out, sighing, "They belong to that arrancar that's always fighting with Nnoitra in the hall. He knocked her out so I did what I could for her and then went back to sleep. Now will you let go of my hair and let me sleep?"

Somewhat satisfied, Lilynette let go and climbed off of him, picking up the bloody clothes and tossing them at him. "Marita? Why'd you help her, anyway?"

The Prima Espada sighed and buried his face in the pillows, mumbling his response, "It would have been a bigger hassle if I left her to die, so I didn't. That's all." Except it wasn't. He really didn't know why he'd done it. He'd never met the woman before last night, never cared to either, but something had pushed him to see if she was alright and it all got more muddled from there. She was so much more fragile and gentle looking than he'd expected from what the other's had said, and covered in blood she seemed even more so. When he'd carried her inside and cleaned her wounds, he'd found himself looking at her more than he'd meant. She was lean, sinewy, and her body consisted of many sharp angles. He found himself wondering what she'd been like as a hollow, what her Resurrección was, and how she fought. Was she stronger or more dangerous than she seemed? Groaning, he sank further into the pillows, ignoring Lilynette as he attempted to return to sleep and forget all about the blond haired woman.

Marita woke alone in her room, body tender after being healed. She always slept for far too long after a fight, and this time was no different. All her wounds and bruises were gone and the pain was just a lingering tenseness in her muscles. Before she could even begin her morning routine, the sight of the Prima Espada's jacket laying folded on her small table reminded her of the odd turn of events.

She'd sonido'd away from the man's room as quickly as she could, careful to avoid anyone and everyone so they would not see her dressed as such. Surely they would get the wrong impression; she had and no one other than Nnoitra would have known the wounds were from their battle. The thought disturbed her and so, even before being healed, she made sure put on a fresh uniform after removing the sloppily done wrappings she'd woken in. The healer knew her wrapping work and she would have known this was not Marita's own work. Even when she'd arrived, the healer knew something was off. The mousey, dark haired woman had questioned why'd she'd waited to come, and when she'd explained that'd she'd been knocked unconscious, she'd asked who'd taken care of her wounds. Marita had waved the question off, saying it must have been whoever dropped her in her room and that they hadn't done that good of a job anyway before pushing the woman into a fit worrying over the painful wound hidden under her hair.

It wasn't until she'd returned to her own room and went to clean Coyote Starrk's jacket that she wondered how she'd ended up in his room, let alone in his bed. He was never said to go out of his way on anything, especially when he could be sleeping. And yet, he clearly had. She was a higher numbered arrancar and neither of them had met. She served no obvious purpose to him, nor was she anything Aizen couldn't easily replace. His actions made her uncomfortable. No one here was trustworthy, nor were they kind. Harribel could be patient, and perhaps her Fracción would describe her as kind, but she was cold to anyone outside her circle. Ulquiorra could be the kindest, but he was only kind because he was not overly cruel. He was a cynical man, and he simply did as he was told with few distractions. No matter how hard she tried, Marita could not understand what had driven Starrk to show her kindness. He was a man to watch out for, she decided.

But for now, she needed to return his jacket. She'd thought about different ways to go about doing it and had come to the decision that leaving it at his door would be simple and she would most likely be able to avoid speaking with him. And if anyone saw her in the hall, she would simply be on her way to the meeting Aizen had requested with her.

However, her plan fell apart upon reaching his door. It was open and the young female- Lilynette, Marita reminded herself- was dragging a half-resisting Starrk across the floor towards it. Before Marita could flee, Lilynette caught sight of her. Dropping Starrk's legs to the ground, she sonido'd over to her, asking too many questions for Marita's overwhelmed mind to keep up with. She stood stupidly in front of the shorter girl, normally lidded, light brown eyes unusually wide as she clutched Starrk's jacket to her chest.

When the blond didn't answer, Lilynette looked to what she was holding and her pink eyes narrowed, "Why do you have Starrk's jacket?" Marita was not even given a chance to answer before the younger girl turned on the lazy man who'd resumed sleeping where he'd been dropped. Giving him a hard kick to the ass, Lilynette turned her questions on Starrk, "Why does she have your jacket?" He grumbled a curse at her, waving her off and getting up. With no answer to satisfy her, Lilynette assumed the worst, "You did have sex with her!"

Starrk coughed, somewhat caught off guard and with a quick look to the woman standing at the door, it was clear to see she was as well. If anything, Marita looked mortified.

Both offended and horrified by Lilynette's suggestion, Marita was quick to shove his jacket at him, strictly avoiding eye contact with either of them when she spoke. "We did not. I was unconscious while here, and he simply bandaged and clothed me as mine were no longer suitable. Please excuse me."

Lilynette pouted, cut off by her dismissal before she could get another word in.

The blond spared a fleeting glance at Starrk, inclining her head and offering a quiet "thank you" before disappearing into a sonido down the hall.

Starrk stared after her for a second before grunting and pushing Lilynette out the door, shutting it quickly behind her. It took a moment for his action to register before she started her fit and he spoke through the door to her. "I'm going to sleep now. Stop waking me up."

It was simply because he was too lazy and too tired that went to bed with the jacket Marita had worn tucked under his arm. That was what he told himself, anyway.


End file.
